


Reminiscence

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      I wasn't exactly sure what this should be rated so I did the NC17, just to be on the safe side. Thanks to Gayle and Keri for putting up with me and to Susan for attempting to fix my punctuation errors. I think I'll stick with short pwp's from now on.<p>
    </p></blockquote>





	Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't exactly sure what this should be rated so I did the NC17, just to be on the safe side. Thanks to Gayle and Keri for putting up with me and to Susan for attempting to fix my punctuation errors. I think I'll stick with short pwp's from now on.

## Reminiscence

by Sheryl

* * *

Reminiscence 

by Sheryl 

The quiet was almost overwhelming, allowing dark thoughts and feelings of desperation to rampage his mind. His skin began to tingle, causing him to shiver and he almost gave in...but somehow he managed to take a deep breath and push the hopelessness back to some small corner of his brain. 

With an exhausted sigh, he propelled himself backward into the soft mattress. A Roller Coaster, he thought with a self-deprecating chuckle. Yes, his life was definitely comparable to a roller coaster. At least that was the first word that popped into his mind as he sprawled across the bed in the dark room and began contemplating his life in general. More specifically, his life ever since meeting up with Cascade's finest, one Detective James Ellison. His mind flashed back to a conversation he'd once had with Jim. He'd admitted something to the effect of not wanting to get off of the 'roller coaster' and go back to the 'merry go round' of his 'previous life'. It was true. He loved his life with Jim. Had loved. He'd loved everything about it, the excitement, the danger, the risk, the rush of adrenaline, everything. 

Ahhh yes, that ever enticing, empowering, enabling rush of adrenaline...gotta love it, man. He remembered being undercover, on a case and having a woman tell him that her reason for stealing expensive cars was that she was addicted to the adrenaline rush she got from doing it. He'd never given it much thought as pertaining to him, but now - he could most definitely see himself falling in to that same category. 

Was it all worth it? Was his life with Jim more valuable than that of another life, or two lives? Maybe? he thought numbly. If given the chance, would he go back and change anything? Hell, yes. 

* * *

July 21st 

"C'mon Jim, there has to be something we can do?" Blair Sandburg pleaded from the passenger seat of the blue and white Ford pick-up truck. 

"Sorry Chief. It's a case of her word against his. There just isn't any evidence to back her accusation. Weaver, on the other hand has a pretty convincing alibi," Jim Ellison explained for at least the 12th time that day - and it wasn't even lunch time, yet. "You know the routine." 

"Yeah, well...the routine sucks!" 

"Tell it to the judge," Ellison replied flatly. 

Sandburg sighed and picked at a loose thread on the worn knee of his jeans. "She's a really nice girl. I just wish there was something we could do." 

Ellison gave him a sideways glance and shook his head. "Always a sucker for a pretty face, huh Chief?" 

Blair snorted and then straightened himself in the seat. "Why do you think I've been hanging around with you all this time?" 

"Dick," Ellison retorted, with a chuckle. 

"Well," replied Blair with a mischievous grin, "there's that too." 

The detective laughed and swatted him playfully in the head. "You've got a one track mind, Chief." 

July 22nd 

"Amy, this is Blair Sandburg. How are you?" With the telephone wedged between his shoulder and ear, Blair absently straightened the unorganized piles of papers on his desk. 

"I'm fine Blair. It's so nice of you to call." 

"Well, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I felt pretty bad that we weren't able to...you know, to help you out more." 

"Everything is fine. I'm doing much better, thanks," the woman on the other end of the line hesitated for a moment. "Joey hasn't called all day." 

Blair picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the desk. "You mean he's still bothering you?" 

The woman sighed. "It's okay, really. It's no big deal." 

Feeling helpless, knowing that there was nothing he could really do, Blair struggled to come up with anything to ease the woman's mind. "Did you get that restraining order against him?" 

"No, no...I haven't done that yet. He hasn't come over here lately, so I didn't think it was necessary." 

"Amy, you really should get that. Do you want me to go with you? I could ya know, for moral support." 

"Would you really Blair? That is so sweet of you!" She sniffled into the phone. "You've been so great through all of this. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

* * *

God, if he could have only known! 

* * *

July 30th 

"Sandburg! It's for you!" An angry sounding Simon Banks scowled at the young observer. "And tell your lady friends to quit calling you here all the time! This is a police station, not a social club." 

"Sorry Simon." Blair raised his eyebrows and gave a shrug as he picked up the phone. "Hello?" 

"Blair! Finally, I found you!" 

"Amy?" he questioned with a nod to his partner. 

"Well, of course it's me. I've been calling all over for you. You're a hard person to track down!" 

"Amy listen," Blair turned away from Simon, keeping his tone as firm, yet gentle as he could, "you've got to stop calling me here, man. The captain is about to blow a gasket." He glanced back at Simon and caught a renewed frown. 

"But I had to get a hold of you!" the woman responded excitedly. "I wanted to invite you to a nice, romantic, home-cooked, candlelight dinner at my place tonight." 

"Amy..." Blair scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "That's really nice of you and I'd like to, really, but I can't tonight. Sorry." 

"Why not?" The woman sounded almost petulant. 

"Because I promised Jim I'd help him out tonight." 

"That's what you said last night." 

"I'm really sorry Amy. Look, I have to go. How about I...I call you when...when I get a free night?" Blair made a face at Jim who was chuckling softly and shaking his head. 

"Sure Blair." 

* * *

He reflected back on that day. Amy was an attractive woman. Shoulder length auburn hair, long legs, expressive hazel eyes. She was taller than Blair, not that there was a problem with that -- he could do taller. In fact, he did do taller. Of course, his version came in a slightly different package. His version had short dark hair and crystal blue eyes...big biceps...carried a gun and a badge... . 

He'd actually felt sorry for her; thought that maybe she was just afraid or lonely, or maybe she couldn't take a hint? He didn't think at the time that he'd done anything to give her the idea that he was interested in anything more than a platonic relationship. Sure, he'd tried to be friendly and supportive, but he definitely hadn't made any type of advances \- if anything, he felt he had kept himself at a distance, knowing that victims are often vulnerable after such an incident as the one Amy had been through. Apparently he hadn't distanced himself enough...or something? 

She'd began calling him - several times a day. If she couldn't find him at one place, she'd try another. It was annoying, had bugged the hell out of him actually, but nothing Blair thought he was incapable of handling. Where was that voice of prescience when he'd needed it? 

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the wind pick up outside. A fairly strong gust blew debris against the window downstairs. It made a sort of whistling noise, an empty, lonely sound. How appropriate for the way he felt. He knew he should be feeling something more. Anger, sadness...something? He didn't though; he didn't feel anything at all. He was just...empty. 

* * *

August 7th 

Blair glanced up from his paperwork when he heard a tap on his office door. 

"Hi Blair," the woman peeked inside, greeting him demurely. 

"Amy." 

"Are you busy?" she asked, hesitantly making her way in to the office. 

"Yeah, yeah I am pretty busy, but...I'm glad you stopped by. We need to talk." He gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat." 

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" She smiled, relaxed a little and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. 

He'd been practicing this 'speech' over and over in his head, but he still found himself not quite prepared to actually say the words. "Amy," he struggled a moment, still searching the gentlest explanation. "I really like you." Standing, he removed his glasses, walked around his desk and sat down on the edge. He looked her directly in the eye. "You're a really nice girl and all...but, these gifts man, the phone calls...you have got to stop with all this." 

"But Blair..." 

"Please Amy." He held up his hands. "First of all, I think that maybe I need to apologize. I guess...well, maybe I've been sending you the wrong signals or something? Maybe I should have been totally up front with you to begin with." 

The woman narrowed her hazel eyes, looking at him warily. "What do you mean?" 

"Amy, the truth is that I'm already involved with someone. Honestly, I never intended to lead you on or anything. I only wanted to help...as a friend. I didn't mean to..." 

Sandburg was taken back by her sudden burst of laughter. "A friend? Oh Blair, come on! You must be joking!" 

"Amy, I'm serious." 

"Come on Blair...why are you saying these things? Are you trying to..." 

Another knock on the door interrupted her plea. "Mr. Sandburg?" 

"Sara!" Blair called out to his student assistant; his voice coming across as a little too relieved. 

"Am I on time?" The petite blonde, dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt, checked her watch. "You did say 2:30, right?" 

Amy stood slowly; looking the smaller woman up and down and then turned with a glare. "This conversation is not over Blair Sandburg!" Angrily, she pushed past the student and headed out of the office. 

Blair let out a huge breath and slumped into his chair. "Thanks Sara! I owe you, big time!" 

Unaffected by the other woman's outburst, Sara laughed and took the now vacant chair. "Where do you dig these girls up?" 

Later that evening 

"...and man, if looks could kill!" Blair shuddered dramatically. 

Jim laughed. "Where do you dig these women up, Sandburg?" 

"Oh very funny Jim." 

"No, I'm serious here Chief." Jim rose from the table, picked up each of their plates and carried them over to the sink, then turned toward Blair with a bemused grin. "I've never known anyone who could attract so many..." Jim twirled his finger in the air next to one side of his head, "what would you call 'em?" 

"Yeah, I get the picture Jim," Blair replied, wryly, "and while we're having this discussion, shall we explore some of your romantic endeavor's also?" 

Jim put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "You got me there, Chief! Uh...by the way...would that include my latest...'romantic endeavor'?" 

"Ha ha." Blair pushed himself away from the table and walked over to stand in front of Jim. "I'll have you know that your latest endeavor just happens to be the catch of a lifetime." 

"Is that right?" 

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and pulled his head down for a slow, meaningful kiss. "That's right," he affirmed in a sultry whisper. 

"A keeper, huh?" Jim raised an eyebrow, attempting to remain unaffected 

"Definitely..." Blair kissed him again, "a keeper." 

"So, I take it that we're not talking catch and release here?" Jim smirked, sliding his arms around Blair's waist, pulling him closer. He bent down, latching on to a piece of skin on Blair's neck, sucking and nipping, making certain that he left a mark. 

"No catch and release," Blair answered, his breath becoming a little ragged. He let Jim continue the oral assault on his neck and then pulled back, his expression turning serious. "...and if you make one derogatory comment about size..." 

"Never Chief," Jim vowed, ducking his head for another kiss. "I'd never make derogatory comments about my little gup...OW! Sandburg! That hurt!" 

August 10th 

"Blair, please. I'd like to apologize for the little scene I caused the other day. I've been so emotional lately. I really don't know what came over me. Maybe it was just the stress of this whole ordeal with Joey?" The woman paused and Blair could hear her take a deep breath. "Anyway, I'm moving to Seattle on Sunday. I thought it might be good to get away. Kind of a like a fresh start you know? I already have a job lined up and everything. As for tonight...I just...sort of wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. I really do appreciate you putting up with me through all of this. You've been a great friend, Blair and I just kind of wanted to do something nice for you, you know?" 

Blair hesitated. A part of him wanted to just hang up the phone and never answer it again, but another part of him actually felt sorry the woman. She did say she was moving away, starting over...so I guess...what could it hurt? "Well, okay Amy. And congratulations on the new job." 

* * *

Damn! What had he been thinking that night? Those red lights had been flashing...no, actually they'd been more like huge fucking beacons in the night and then there was that little voice inside his head...well, it hadn't been so little, he remembered, in fact it had been screaming at him -- Run! He always listened to that voice, always! Why hadn't he listened that night? And then Jim's voice popped into his mind, almost seeming real. "Chief, I'm not sure this is such a good idea." God, why hadn't he listened? 

Everything had started out fine, seemingly innocent. She'd chatted cheerfully about the classes she planned to take in the fall in Seattle, her new job, her grade for the summer course she'd just finished, her ex-boyfriend moving away. She seemed like a different person. Dinner was great, the wine was great, everything seemed to be going...great! He had almost forgotten about the outburst at the university. 

When they'd finished dinner, she'd gotten up to start clearing the table and then, he remembered quickly standing to help. That's when the room had started to spin. He'd sat back down, figuring that it had to be the wine. Things got a little foggy after that. He could barely remember telling her that he had to be going - that he didn't feel very well. She offered him a ride, looking concerned and he couldn't remember if he'd accepted or not. In fact, he couldn't remember anything until waking up the next morning. 

He shuddered now, thinking back on it all. So stupid...so fucking stupid. With great effort, he climbed out of the bed. He felt a little...light-headed and he wondered if he'd picked up his wet clothes from the bathroom floor, but then he remembered. 

Who cares? He didn't. He didn't really care what anyone else thought about his lack of housekeeping abilities. The only thing he did care about - the only person who would have complained about wet clothes on the bathroom floor -- was gone. Jim was never coming back. 

He walked down the stairs and over to the window. Another wave of dizziness washed over him, but he closed his eyes and it soon passed. He hadn't bothered to turn on any lights; the streetlights along with the partial moonlight reflected off of the falling snow, creating a glow inside of the loft, an almost day time appearance making everything seem bright. His head was killing him. God, he wished Jim were here. 

* * *

August 11th 

"Oh my God!" Blair rolled out from under the blankets and forced himself to remain upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. This room was so fucking bright! He rested his head in his hands; it felt like it weighed a ton and he was pretty sure that the pressure was going to cause it to explode at any second. His muscles ached, his throat was dry. "Where...?" Puzzled, squinting as he looked around the room, he slowly turned to look behind him on the bed. 

"Hi Sleepyhead." Amy smiled. She was propped up on some pillows with the blankets pulled up to her chest, her bare shoulders visible. "I've been watching you sleep." 

Blair looked down at his unclad self and closed his eyes. "Shit." 

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" 

"Huh?" Blair could barely hear over the loud buzzing in his ears. He shook his head and that was a mistake. "Oh man." 

"Blair, are you all right?" 

"Umm...yeah," he answered with a gulp. "Amy...uhh...I need..." with a pain-filled expression he looked around the room, but couldn't find his clothes. "Where are my clothes?" 

"Oh," she giggled, "well they're in the living room where you left 'em. I'll get them, hold on." She stood up, totally nude and obviously not a bit shy, and walked out of the bedroom. 

Shit, how could he have done this? To say that he felt uncomfortable would be a monumental under-statement. Appalled? Nah. Mortified? Yeah. Now we're getting closer. He didn't even have the presence of mind to feel anything for the woman with whom he had just spent the night. He just wanted - to not be there. Beam me up...and now would be nice. 

Amy brought him his clothes and pulled a long, dark green robe out of the closet and wrapped it around herself as Blair dressed. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?" 

Oh God. "Umm...no, no thanks Amy. Jim's probably wondering where the hell I am. He probably has, like, half the Cascade PD out looking for me." 

"Blair, don't you remember? You called Jim last night and left a message on the answering machine." 

"What? I did?" Blair squinted his eyes, rubbed his forehead attempting to soothe the pounding. Had he called Jim? "Thanks anyway, but I really do have to get going." 

Amy nodded, looking downcast and a bit hurt. "Okay Blair." 

He finished tying his shoelaces and practically dashed to the front door of the apartment. I am so so so so fucked. How am I going to explain this to Jim? He grabbed his coat; unable to get out of there fast enough. "Thanks for dinner Amy." He didn't wait for a reply. 

* * *

He shivered now, as he watched the flakes dancing in the cold wind. How could he have been so...so naive? Realistically, he had been on guard that night. I mean, who would have thought that she would have done something like that? Geez, it was like something that happens in movies, or soap operas. Still, he'd had no business going there; he should have known better. 

He'd already figured out as he'd gotten into his car that next morning that she had to have put something in his wine. That was the only logical explanation. 

At the time, he doubted Jim would believe him though. Jim was going to kill him! He remembered that he had hoped, in a way, that Jim would kill him. Of course that would have meant that Jim probably would have gone to jail and Jim didn't deserve that. But still, Blair had been so stupid, so careless. 

How could he have been unfaithful? How could he have done that to Jim? This was the only person he had ever loved -- really, totally loved. What they had together was so important, it was everything...and he'd had so little regard for it? Wine or drugs or altered state of consciousness were no excuse; he'd thrown it away. He still hated himself for that. Jim had forgiven him, actually Jim had said there was nothing to forgive...that it wasn't Blair's fault, yadda, yadda, but still, he'd never be able to forgive himself. 

He remembered pulling over to the side of the road on the way home that morning and puking his guts out and barely making it the rest of the way home without pulling over again. 

* * *

August 11th 

Jim opened the door, before Blair could even get his keys out of his coat pocket. "Have a nice time, Sandburg?" His jaw clenched as he glowered down at the smaller man. 

Blair could feel the blood drain from his face; a strand of hair clung to his damp forehead and with a shaky hand, he managed to push it to the side. For a very brief moment, stars dotted the outer edges of his vision, but he ignored them. He was about to say...something...and then his stomach rolled. A small noise escaped before he covered his mouth and took off like a shot for the bathroom. He vomited violently, until there was nothing left to vomit and after that, continued for an extended round of the dry heaves. At some point, he managed to pull himself up off of the floor, rinse his mouth out and splash some cold water on his face. His head was throbbing unbearably. He didn't remember ever feeling this bad. He really needed to get to a bed. 

When he opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, he was sweating profusely. The already loud ringing in his ears increased in intensity, the edges of his vision grew dark and then, almost mercifully, everything tilted and faded to black. 

"Sandburg." He could hear Jim's voice, distant and muffled; felt something tapping his cheek. "Come on Chief, wake up." 

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes expecting the worst. Expecting to see anger, disgust or maybe a little sarcastic indignation, but instead he found only distress and concern in the blue eyes looking down at him. "Jim," he managed to croak. "S-Sorry." 

"Blair?" Jim tapped again on his cheek. "Stay with me buddy. Tell me what's goin' on." 

Shit, what could he say? He didn't think he even had enough energy for an explanation. 

"Jim...I..." he choked, his throat felt like it was closing up. 

"Take it easy," Jim soothed. "Just take it easy." 

"She...I don't..." Jim was being nice and Jim looked really worried and Blair couldn't decide if that made him feel better or worse, but he knew that the instant that decision was made he would fall apart - either way. And Jim just kept petting his forehead, his features gentle, compassionate; his eyes full of affection and caring. And then from somewhere he heard a sob and then another one and it took a moment or two before he realized that - God, he was crying! 

"Come on Chief, settle down." Jim's words were as gentle as his expression. One warm hand rested on Blair's chest, the other still brushing his damp hair away from his forehead. "Tell me what happened." 

"Oh Jim," he sobbed again. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes and then somehow - from somewhere -- the whole sordid story came pouring out. 

* * *

Man, that day certainly ranked high on his list of most sucking experiences. Funny how the entire list consists of things that happened - post Jim, all since finding his "Holy Grail". 

First, he'd had the hangover from hell, the 'Mother Of All Hangovers. Second, he'd completely lost eight or so hours of his life...by allowing himself to be duped by a psycho - which he also listed as third. Last and most upsetting, he'd more than likely been unfaithful to the person that he loved more than life itself. Whether he remembered it or not. 

He had certainly never expected for Jim to take care of him...to take care of practically everything! 

He sat on the coffee table, staring outside at the snow as it continued to fall. That morning he remembered Jim draping a blanket over him and holding on tightly. He remembered thinking...or hoping that Jim would never let go. Now, as he looked out at the frozen city, he wrapped his own arms around himself at the memory. 

He'd known in the back of his mind that he probably should have been acting more...like a man about the whole situation, but it had felt so good to rest in those arms and he'd been so tired. They had stayed that way, Jim holding on to him and every now and then promising that everything would be okay, for a long time. He'd fallen asleep, safe and secure in the strong arms. 

What would he have done without Jim? It was Jim who had taken him to the hospital later that afternoon; a blood test confirmed that he had been drugged with a form of benzodiazepine. "Slipped a Mickey" - as Jim had put it. 

Jim could smell her scent on him; he could pick up on her bodily fluids. He'd said that it was most likely that Blair had been passed out the entire time, but there had been no way of being 100 percent certain whether or not they'd actually had intercourse. Not once had Jim accused him...or acted disgusted with him. Not once did he say 'I told ya so, Chief.' He could only guess that Jim had been able to see that Blair had enough disgust for both of them. He hadn't wanted to press charges, had wanted to forget the whole thing. Amazingly, Jim seemed to understand and go along with Blair's decision. 

At some point, later that week, Jim had gone to her apartment and found that she had moved. Things settled down after that. No more phone calls. No more gifts. No more Amy lurking around. His life had seemed almost normal for awhile...except for the feeling...the feeling that wouldn't go away. It had lingered in the back of his mind, hinting that things were not quite over. 

What was he going to do now? Jim had always been there for him - whether Blair thought he needed him to be there, or not. These past three years, he'd taken Jim's support and friendship for granted. Who was going to pick up the pieces this time? Blair doubted that there were any pieces left, worth picking up. 

* * *

September 15th 

Blair checked his watch. "Man, I am so late. I have to get going," he informed the young woman across the table from him, as he piled the remnants of his lunch onto the mint green plastic tray. "I'll see you later, Margie!" 

"See ya Blair and hey, thanks for lunch! I'll stop by your office in the morning for those notes," Margie called after him. 

"Thanks again for covering for me!" He waved and hurried for the garbage can. Geez, he thought, fall semester had just started and already he was in need of help covering his classes. 

He dumped his waste and set the tray on top of the canister and turned to begin his trek back to his office, only to literally run into Amy Stevens. 

"Blair...fancy bumping into you here." 

He looked at her for a moment and then cleared his throat, looked away and as politely as possible said, "Excuse me," and tried to maneuver around her. 

"Hey, wait a second, Blair." 

"Amy, I really have to go," he told her, gesturing in the direction of Hargrove Hall. 

"Uh-huh, sure you do. Aren't you even going to congratulate me?" She asked with amusement. "Or maybe...maybe I should congratulate you?" 

"I'm late." 

She laughed. "Funny, I had that problem too." 

"I have to go, Amy." 

"Okay, okay. I understand. I just thought that you'd be interested to know that you're going to be a daddy." She shrugged and sighed dramatically. "I guess not though, huh? Let me see...you promised Jim you'd do cop stuff today?" 

Blair stood dumbfounded, not quite able to digest her words. "What'd you say?" 

She nodded and winked at him. "I thought that might get your attention...Daddy." 

"You're so crazy, man." Blair ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Why are you doing this to me, Amy?" 

"Doing this to --" 

"Blair? I thought you said you had to get back?" Margie was suddenly next to him, she nudged him in the side and hooked her arm through his. "Come on, we'd better hurry." She paused to give Amy a critical glance and then led Blair away from the caf. 

"Blair, I know it's none of my business..." Margie began as soon as they were out of Amy's earshot. "Hey, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine Margie. Thanks for rescuing me back there," he said nodding toward the caf and letting out a shaky breath. 

"You looked like you needed rescuing. You still look a little pale. Anyway, I was going to warn you about that woman. Amy, that's her name, isn't it?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah." 

"If I were you, Blair, I'd stay far away from her! I'm not kidding!" She looked around and then leaned a little closer to Blair. "I'm tellin' ya, she is bad news! I know this guy that dated her once and she like...became totally obsessed with him. She followed him all over, called him all the time, sent him all these expensive gifts. The chick was like a major head case; she would not leave him alone!" 

"Man, that's just...unreal." 

"I'm totally serious. He finally came right out and told her to get lost and then she tried to press charges against him - for rape!" 

"Oh wow. Margie, did his last name happen to be Weaver?" Blair asked, remembering back to the event that led to his meeting Amy in the first place. 

"No, ummm... well, this is just between us okay?" She waited for an affirmation to continue. "His name was Scott Hanson. He transferred last fall to another college in California. Even after she pressed charges, she still wouldn't leave him alone. The woman is definitely not all there, you know?" Margie tapped the side of her head and gave Blair a knowing look. "Just do yourself a favor and stay away from her." 

"Thanks Margie." 

Later that evening 

Blair sat at the kitchen table, paging through his notes and tapping away on his computer. He heard keys jingling in the hallway and seconds later the door opened. 

"Hey Chief," Jim greeted, closing and locking the door behind him. 

Blair looked up momentarily, smiled and went back to his typing. 

Jim tossed his keys in the basket and hung up his coat. "Whatcha workin' on there, Darwin?" 

"What am I always working on Jim?" Blair gave his partner a brief, wry grin. 

Jim nodded, pulled two beers from the refrigerator and sat down at the table, placing one of the bottles in front of Blair. 

Blair hesitated and looked up, "Thanks Jim." Immediately he recognized the detective's solemn expression. "What's wrong?" 

"There's been a murder," the detective ran a hand through his hair and almost seemed to wince, "at Rainier." 

"A murder?" Blair sat up straight in his chair. "God, Jim. Who?" 

"They found the body..." Jim sighed heavily and reached over, placing a hand on Blair's arm. "Chief, they found the body in your office." 

"What?" Blair paled visibly. "In my office? Who...who was it?" 

The detective struggled, obviously having a difficult time relaying the information. 

"Come on man, tell me!" 

"Chief, it was that friend of yours, Margie Johnson." 

"Oh man!" Suddenly full of nervous energy, Blair stood and began to pace. "Jim...how...who? Wait a minute, they don't think that I had --" 

"No, no. Come on, Chief," Jim interrupted, "settle down. Nobody's accusing you of anything." 

"Then tell me...tell me what happened." God. A murder? Margie? "We have a suspect." 

Blair stilled, staring at Jim, waiting to hear whatever else he was going to drop. 

"There was a note," he added grimly, "addressed to you." 

"Shit Jim!" Blair began pacing again, images and ugly scenarios flashing through his mind. 

"Blair it wasn't signed, but there is a witness who says they saw Amy Stevens in the hall outside of your office -- with the victim -- late this afternoon." 

"Jim," Blair slapped his palms on to the table. "I had lunch today with Margie today. When I was leaving, I ran into Amy Stevens and...God, you're not gonna believe this...she said..." Suddenly his legs felt weak; he sat back down at the table. "She said that I was...that she was pregnant. She said I was the father." With a stricken expression, he stared at the center of the table. 

"Jesus Blair!" Jim shook his head in disbelief. "When were you planning on telling me this?" 

Blair was breathing raggedly; he felt his stomach lurch and made a dash for the bathroom. Margie's dead! And shit, Amy's pregnant! That means, I really did fuck her! God! I can't believe it! How could I have done that? 

He didn't even have anything in his stomach to throw up; instead he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control, fighting off the encroaching panic attack. He'd known Margie for years. Almost since he had first started at Rainier. And today \-- Margie had pulled him away from Amy - and now she's dead. God, it's all my fault! "Sandburg!" Jim rapped on the bathroom door. "Open up." 

"Leave me alone, Jim." 

There was about a thirty-second pause and Jim knocked again. "Come on Chief, let me in." 

"Go away Jim." 

"Blair," he softened his tone, "come on buddy. Open the door." 

Too exhausted for a battle, Blair reached over and unlocked the door. 

In an instant, his partner was kneeling before him. "Come on Blair, don't do this," he said softly, brushing the backs of his fingers over Blair's cheek. "Don't shut me out. Everything will be okay. We'll get this all figured out." 

* * *

He had hung on those words, for all these months and now...now they were just words, meaningless. He knew that when Jim had said them, that he'd really believed them - even made Blair believe them, but there are some things that we just have no control over. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can't change the inevitable outcome and this was one of those times. Only the outcome was even worse than he'd thought possible. Jim was gone and he was never coming home. 

Suddenly, finding enough air to fill his lungs seemed impossible. Blair went again to the window, pressing his face against the cool glass, trying to calm himself. How could this be? How could Jim not be coming home? How could it be that he'd never again see that warm smile or the mischievous twinkle in those blue eyes? How could it be true that never again would his friend walk through the door and say, "Hey Chief!" or growl "Sandburg! Turn down the jungle music! Feet off the coffee table!" He pulled his face away from the window, studying the smudged imprint left behind. What he wouldn't do to hear that voice right now, reminding him where the paper towels and window cleaner were located. 

"Oh God Jim! I'm so sorry!" He whispered to the empty loft. 

* * *

October 1st 

Blair unpacked the last box filled with books and carefully arranged them on the shelf of his new office. 

He stood for a long moment, taking in his new surroundings. There was no way he could have kept his old office, not after finding Margie's battered body in there. This place was at least brighter than the old one. There were more windows. Blair shuddered and moved over to a window. This one had a much better view of the campus too. 

The phone rang and his heart sped up. Hesitantly he reached for the receiver, "Blair Sandburg." 

"Hey Chief, how's everything going?" 

"Jim!" He answered, relieved, letting out a breath. 

"Are you okay Blair?" 

"Yeah man, I'm okay. Just got finished unpacking boxes." 

"Good, good. I'm on my way to the university right now. Checking up on a lead. It shouldn't take very long and then, if you're finished up there, we can grab something to eat and head home." 

"Sure, that sounds great. Uh...what kind of a lead are you looking into?" 

"I'll fill you in later, Chief. See you in a bit." 

Blair hung up the phone and sat down in his chair. If Jim was following up on a lead here...then most likely it had to do with Margie's murder. Maybe it was something new on Amy Stevens? Geez, he wondered, how can she just disappear? 

A knock on his door snapped him out of his reverie. 

"Blair? Here's the rest of the stuff you left in the filing cabinet." Sara pushed the door open, her arms piled full of folders. "Where should I put..." her sentence stopped as the folders, along with all of the papers inside of them, spilled on to the floor. 

Blair looked down at the barrage of paperwork and then back up at his embarrassed assistant. "Oh...right there will be fine Sara." He grinned. 

"Gee," she remarked, smiling back at him, "all ready looks like home!" 

Later 

"So they said that they saw her at the caf?" Blair asked as Jim slowly pulled away from the curb. 

"That's what they said Chief. There and at the Laundromat." 

"Are they sure it was her?" 

" _I'm_ sure, Chief," Jim said, glancing at him pointedly. "I picked up her scent at the Laundromat. She also left her clothes in the dryer. She must have gotten suspicious." 

"Shit, that means she's still hanging around the campus!" 

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Finally, as Jim withdrew the key from the ignition, he reached over and placed his warm hand on the back of Blair's neck. "We'll find her, don't worry." 

Blair allowed himself a small, albeit sad smile for the other man. "I know, Jim." 

October 12th 

"Chief! You're never gonna believe this!" Jim shouted into the cell phone. 

Blair pulled the phone he was holding away from his ear, hoping to avoid damaging his hearing from the detective's rather loud exclamation. He smiled and put it back to his ear when the detective paused for breath. "What?" 

"We think we found Amy Stevens. I'm on my way there right now." 

"Oh man, Jim! I hope it's her." 

"We're pretty sure it is Chief. We had a girl named Tricia McCloud call not too long ago and tell us that Stevens was staying in her apartment. It seems that the two of them were friends and apparently Stevens had convinced her that she was being set up. I'm not sure what happened, but Stevens did or said something that upset this Tricia enough that she finally called us. I'm there now, so I'll get back to you as soon as I can." 

Blair hung up the phone wanting to feel relieved, but just not able to allow himself that -- yet. 

October 13th - 

Blair had fallen asleep on the couch, watching television, trying to wait up for Jim. He woke some time later, to the sensation of warm lips brushing across his own lips, followed by a warm breath in his ear. "Hey." He greeted sleepily, reaching up to card his fingers through his lover's hair. 

"Hey there sleeping beauty," Jim whispered back, nuzzling the warm space in the crook of Blair's neck. 

"Sleeping Beauty? Oh man, I suppose that makes you Prince Charming?" 

"That pretty much goes without saying, don'tcha think?" Jim said with a leer and began slowly undoing the buttons of Blair's shirt, dropping kisses as he went along. 

Blair relaxed for a moment, relishing the attention of the man he loved. Then suddenly he remembered that he had been waiting up for a reason. "So, what happened? Tell me, what'd you find?" 

Jim sighed, regretfully detaching his mouth from the nipple ring it had been so happily reacquainting itself with. "We didn't find her." 

"And?" Blair scooted himself up on the couch. 

"The caller...Tricia McCloud, well..." Jim cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly unable to find the words he needed to say. 

"Well what, Jim? Was the girl lying? What happened? It's almost three o'clock in the morning, man. Something must have gone down." 

Jim pulled back a little. "Blair, we found Tricia McCloud's body at the scene; no sign of Amy Stevens. She had been there all right, but apparently she must have figured out that her roommate tipped us off and...she...well, she was gone when we got there." 

Blair nodded silently and then pulled Jim back down to him. "I need you so bad, Jim." He clumsily fumbled with untucking and then removing Jim's tee shirt, while Jim had moved on to belts and zippers, quickly divesting his young lover of his jeans. Standing for a minute to remove his pants, Jim then returned to lie down, covering Blair's body with his own. 

* * *

The memory of that night made his chest feel tight. The image was so vivid. The warmth of his lover's body covering his - all skin against skin, their tongues eagerly invading each other's mouths. It had started out hurried, inflamed, as an act of frustrated need, but somewhere along the way things had slowed down - at least enough for them both to enjoy each other. Blair had ended up on top, their legs entwined. One of Jim's hands on his hip, the other clutching his ass for leverage, pulling him down as Jim arched up, each grinding and thrusting. When Jim's finger trailed in between his cheeks and began pressing against his anus, Blair hadn't been able hold back any longer. He'd cried out incoherently as he came. Jim urging him on. God, he was getting hard just thinking about it. 

Thank God he'd been spared from actually being at either of those crime scenes. Both women had been found, bludgeoned; mouths duct taped, hands secured behind their backs. He'd probably viewed worse crime scenes -- bloody, possibly more violent - but the fact that he felt somehow connected to these murders, felt almost responsible, made him appreciate all the more that Jim hadn't filled him in until afterwards. He'd seen the photos, they were horrible enough. 

* * *

October 28th 

"How's this, Mr. Sandburg?" A young lady, all of eighteen at the most, with long, strawberry blonde hair and freckles handed him a folder. 

Blair thumbed through the contents, skimming each page. "It looks pretty good Mindy. I tell ya what...I'll go through this more thoroughly tonight and let you know my thoughts in the morning. Okay?" 

The girl smiled hopefully. "That's really great, thank you sir." 

"You're welcome Mindy. You're doing a great job and I'm sure you'll be caught up in no time." 

"I hope so. I appreciate you taking all this extra time to help me out, Mr. Sandburg." 

"It's no problem, Mindy. It's not your fault you were sick. There's just one thing that's bothering me...." He frowned. 

Her cheerful expression instantly turned to worry. "What? What's wrong?" She tried to peek over the folder at the papers inside. 

"You keep calling me Mr. Sandburg and...Sir?" He told her, his expression and voice relaying dramatic exasperation. "Man, I'm not that old!" 

Her green eyes grew wide and she began to stammer. "You're not...I mean...I-I didn't mean...umm...o-okay sir...I mean...Professor?" She nervously began to chew a fingernail. 

"See you tomorrow Mindy," Blair replied, grinning wryly. 

November 12th 

Blair unlocked the door to the loft, opened it and walked inside while absently shuffling through the mail. Closing the door behind him, he dropped his backpack on the floor, set his keys on the table along with the small stack of mail, saving one small, pink envelope addressed to him. He didn't bother taking his coat off as he sat down on the couch and proceeded to open the letter. "Jesus," he muttered as soon as he read the signature. 

He sat there, unmoving, reading the contents over and over in disbelief, and that's exactly the way his roommate found him when he got home, some time later. 

"Chief?" Jim hung his coat and walked over to where Blair was seated. "Whaddaya got there?" 

Without looking up, mutely Blair handed him the letter. 

Dear Blair, 

I'm so glad to see that you're doing well. I am doing as well as can be expected, in spite of the fact that for the time being, you've chosen to reject me and your unborn child. I know that you regret our night of lovemaking, but as I feel the baby growing I can't help but think of you constantly. Knowing that it is a part of you, it makes me love you, and it, all the more. I had really hoped that we could be a family, but I realize that it may take some time and effort before you're finally convinced of my love. We were meant to be together, Blair, you'll see that some day. All my love forever, 

Amy 

Jim plucked the envelope out of Blair's hand and scanned it quickly, then examined the envelope for any clue to her whereabouts. "This was mailed from right here, in Cascade," he informed. Blair shrugged, but remained quiet. 

"Come on, Chief." Jim pulled him up from the couch and coaxed him out of his coat. "Have you eaten?" he asked as he hung up the coat. 

"I'm not very hungry." 

"Come on, Blair." Jim tugged him toward the bathroom. "Why don't you take a nice hot shower and I'll whip us up something to eat." 

Blair's misery was easily perceptible, in his ever-expressive eyes. Jim pulled him close, and he rested his forehead against Jim's shoulder. "She said she was glad to see that I'm well, Jim. She's watching me, isn't she?" he mumbled. 

November 17th 

Leaning wearily against the door, Blair sorted through the mail. Another one. He sighed, pushed himself away from the door and set the rest of the mail on the kitchen island. His stomach seemed to do a flip as he cautiously opened the small envelope. 

Dear Blair, 

I've been watching you and I know that you are seeing someone else. I see the two of you together. I can't begin to tell you how much it hurts me to see you with her, when I know that we are meant for each other. Why can't you just give us a chance? Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Don't worry my love. Once again, I will take care of everything. 

It took Blair a moment to put the pieces together. Oh God, Mindy! Blair grabbed his backpack, hurriedly digging through the array of papers and books to pull out his planner. He found the student's telephone number, grabbed the telephone and dialed. "C'mon...c'mon...answer." Blair's mind worked frantically trying to recall any other possibilities. Mindy was the only woman that he'd spent any significant amount of time with lately. He'd been tutoring her after she had missed quite a bit of class time, due to an illness. 

"Hi! If you're trying to reach Mindy or Candace, we're not able to take your call right now, so please leave a message at the tone." 

"Shit!" Blair waited impatiently for the tone. "Mindy, this is Blair Sandburg. It's really important that you give me a call as soon as you get this message." 

As soon as he hung up, he dialed the station. 

* * *

Man, he thought as he walked over to the staircase leading up to the bedroom. That had to have been one of the longest weeks of my life. He sat down on the bottom step, feeling out of sorts, not knowing where he wanted to go or what else he should be doing. His thoughts went back to the young student. 

The morning after Amy's second letter had arrived, both Mindy and her room-mate had been reported missing. Neither had been to their dorm; they didn't show up for any of their classes. Not one of their friends, family or instructors had heard from them. Days passed slowly with absolutely no sign of the missing students. 

However, he and Jim had a good idea as to what had happened, which possibly made the waiting even more painful for Blair. There were no absolute facts or even any decent clues to go on, but they were pretty certain \-- although neither one of them actually said it. Jim had been able to detect the scent of Amy Stevens in the girls' dorm room. Amy Stevens had been there. 

He remembered the exact moment that everything first crashed down around him; he remembered everything about it. He'd been with Jim the afternoon when they got the call that two bodies had been found. Jim had pulled in to an old, seedy looking used car lot, 'Bergan's Bargains'. They'd driven past the not so new cars, back to the very back... 'the bone yard'. Jim had tried to get him to stay in the truck, but Blair had refused. He'd followed his partner to the small group of law enforcement personnel gathered around the back end of the older model Honda Accord. The trunk was open and Blair could smell the odor of death long before he was close enough to see the actual bodies. It was the missing girls, no longer missing. 

That odor. He could still smell it even now, whenever he thought about what he'd seen. Everything had seemed to move in slow motion from that moment on. Instead of being frantic, emotional or out of control, he had grown numb. He must have done something to frighten Jim, although he hadn't known what. He remembered thinking that the numb feeling was a good thing, kept him in control, but Jim had grabbed him by the arm and steered him back to the truck, ordering him to stay put and promising not to be too long. 

He had watched Jim walk back to the car and he'd known at that moment, that the only thing he could do was get away. For the good of everyone he cared about, he had to get away from Rainier, possibly even Cascade... most definitely Jim. He couldn't allow this to go on. Couldn't take any more chances. 

* * *

November 22nd 

"Chief? You okay?" A very concerned Jim Ellison looked at the man sitting next to him in the cab of his truck. 

Blair nodded minutely, but didn't answer. He continued gazing out of the passenger window for several minutes. 

Finally, Jim reached out, gently taking hold of his hand and giving it a small squeeze. "Jesus Blair, I wish I could do something. I wish I could make this all go away." The detective paused, then squeezed the cold hand again. "None of this is your fault, you know that, don't you?" 

Blair squeezed back and after taking a deep breath, managed to look at his sentinel, his best friend. "Everything will be okay, Jim," he said calmly and then turned back to stare blankly out of his window. 

* * *

That had been the last night that he'd been with Jim. He realized tears were rolling down his cheeks now, as the memories flooded him. Jim had been so gentle that night. There hadn't been many words, they hadn't needed many. When they had returned to the loft, Jim began kissing him softly - reverently; leading him upstairs and undressing them both. They'd made love slowly, passionately. Jim had worshipped Blair's body, attempting to comfort, as well as convey his love and devotion. 

Blair had made love to Jim in the same manner, but with added incentive. He'd wanted Jim to remember him, to remember that night and to somehow know, that no matter what, Blair loved him...even though Blair was leaving him. 

The next morning he'd assured Jim that he would be fine while Jim made a brief trip to the station. As soon as Jim had left though, Blair had made a few phone calls and packed a bag - just essentials, he'd hoped that he wouldn't have to be gone too long. 

He'd known at the time that Jim would be worried, that he'd be angry and hurt. Jim hated not being in control and with this case, the detective had had absolutely no control from the beginning. Blair's leaving was probably going to be the last straw. But at the time, he was unable to see any other way out of the horrible situation. He couldn't risk something happening to Jim. He just hoped that by his not being there...that Amy Stevens would have no one else to go after. Maybe she'd leave everyone else alone, especially Jim. 

So he'd looked around the loft - his home, memorizing it and hoping that he'd be able to return soon. Then he'd locked the door; climbed in to the Volvo and driven away. 

Now, all this time later, he once again found himself looking around the loft. It made him feel restless; to be here made him long for Jim. But he wanted to be near Jim, or at least feel like he was near. He wanted to miss Jim, because that was all he had left. 

Blair felt closest to his lover when he was upstairs, so he trudged back up the stairs, his legs feeling very heavy and returned to the bedroom. He sat on the large bed, smoothing out the comforter. "I miss you so much," he whispered as he reached over and picked up the pillow on Jim's side of the bed. He hugged it to him and inhaled deeply. He could faintly smell Jim on the pillow when he buried his face in it. It was almost comforting and Blair wished, not for the first time, that he had sentinel senses so he could experience the scent more thoroughly, could imprint it into his memory. He looked more closely at the pillow and then he realized - the pillow that he was holding so tightly didn't belong to Jim. He felt his heart breaking all over again; the pillow he was holding, the one with Jim's scent, the one that Jim had been sleeping with -- was Blair's own. 

* * *

November 22nd 

Blair pulled up in front of Hargrove Hall. The campus was practically deserted due to the Thanksgiving break. He turned off the engine and got out of the car. He needed to leave some graded tests, notes and other things for whoever would be taking over his classes. He jogged up the stairs and into the building. The last thing he remembered was stepping inside of his office, followed by a blinding pain in the back of his head and everything going black. 

Sometime later 

Blair slowly returned to consciousness, aware only of the throbbing in his head. After a few moments he succeeded in opening his eyes, but the room whirled around him and he quickly closed them again. His stomach rolled and he fought the urge to vomit. He heard a voice...a female voice...soft...but he couldn't make out any words and after a moment, sank back into the darkness. 

November 24th 

"Blair? Blair honey. Wake up. It's Thanksgiving." 

Naomi? Blair slowly began to rouse. His head didn't seem to hurt quite as much as the last time, but his mouth was dry...he felt strange. 

"Come on Blair. You can't sleep through Thanksgiving. I've made a turkey and everything." 

With great effort he managed to open his eyes and after a few minutes of blinking blearily, he was finally able to focus on the room around him, but nothing seemed familiar; he had no idea where he was. He moved to rub the sleep from his eyes, but found himself unable to lift his arms. He startled, coming fully awake. 

"Oh sorry about that. As soon as we get everything straightened out between us, I'll undo the ropes." 

Ropes? He lifted his head, seeking out the owner of the vaguely familiar voice he was hearing. "Oh my god," he whispered. 

The woman frowned at him, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't tell me you're going to ruin our very first Thanksgiving as a family." 

* * *

Just when you think things can't get any worse, he mused. Still clutching the pillow in his arms, he reclined backwards on to the bed. What a nightmare. He was about to be thankful it was over...until he remembered that it wasn't over. He had no idea how he could face the sunrise the next morning. 

For two weeks Amy Stevens had held him prisoner. He had been kept tied to a bed, only allowed up at gunpoint to relieve himself and to clean up. The entire time she had held him captive, she had spoken as if Blair and the unborn baby were part of her happily twisted little family. 

She had always used the term "we" when she spoke of anything. As if she had been drilling it into Blair's mind that she was pregnant and they were soon to be a family and he'd best not forget. 

She had refused him food and water most of the time - as punishment for his lack of cooperation. Not that he could have eaten much anyway. He was told over and over, that if he would just do the right thing, everything would be perfect. Most of the time that he'd spent in the cabin was a bit hazy. Everything seemed unreal. 

Even the events of this morning seemed fuzzy. He had no doubt that they'd taken place though. 

He remembered her coming in to his room, untying him so he could use the bathroom. She always stood there watching - holding that gun. It was really embarrassing at first, but after awhile he simply hadn't cared any longer. 

She was unusually cheerful. Babbling on about how they could truly be together now. Not much different from the usual ranting and rambling. Then, as he stood in front of the mirror, wondering if that was really his image and splashing cold water on his face, she dropped the bomb. 

* * *

December 8th 

"He's dead Blair." She arched an eyebrow, waiting for his response. 

Blair stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment. "What are you talking about?" 

"I told you I'd take care of your cop friend and I did." The corner of her mouth twitched and she continued to watch him, almost seemed to be daring him to react. 

She's lying. Please, let her be lying. "What did you do?" 

"I have a newspaper if you'd like to read it for yourself. See, right here." She pulled a newspaper from behind her back, held it up for him to get a look. 

At the bottom of the front page of the paper was a photo of Jim. The heading next to it read - Detective James Ellison believed dead - Blair didn't bother to read the rest of the story. 

"You see, I called your little cop friend...told him to meet me at a certain time and place and paid a friend of mine to take care of him," she explained casually. "It only cost me a hundred bucks. I would have done it myself, but I needed to come home -- to you." 

* * *

After that everything gets really hazy - for which he was actually kind of thankful. His head had been spinning, he'd been so stunned at first \-- and then outraged. He remembered feeling like his face was on fire, the anger welling up inside until...he grabbed her, made a lunge for the weapon. She'd struck him on the side of the head with it and he'd almost lost consciousness. They'd briefly struggled for the gun, grappling on the floor. The struggle couldn't have lasted for very long and then the weapon discharged and for a split second he didn't know if anyone had even been shot, but then she rolled off of him, and dropped to the floor. 

He could still very clearly remember the surprised look on her face. She put her hand to her chest and looked down at the blossoming red patch. Then, she looked up at him...sort of tilted her head to one side, as if silently asking - why? 

He watched. When her body finally went limp, he'd checked for a pulse although he would have rather run away. 

He'd found his keys on the table in the small kitchen. Miraculously, his car had started with out too much prompting and he'd driven off as fast as he could, hoping that he was headed toward Cascade. 

His car had died...or run out of gas, not too long after he'd passed the Cascade city limits. He made a phone call - 911 - on a pay phone and had given the details and whereabouts as well as he could, but eluded any information about himself. He'd left his car in the spot where it had coasted to on the side of the road and started out walking. He knew if he kept going on the street he was on, eventually he'd come to his neighborhood. 

He'd walked and walked, in the slush and cold, for what had to have been hours. He wasn't sure how long it took him, but now he was home...only it wasn't home because Jim wasn't there. 

He felt himself begin to panic, now that he'd sorted through all of the events leading up to...this moment. He was so cold, cold and tired. Maybe if he just slept for awhile... 

* * *

White. Hospital? He could hear voices, talking quietly. Familiar voices and he wondered where they were coming from. He tried to rouse himself, tried to focus; finding himself vaguely interested in those voices. He knew they were important and that he should be there, wherever they are. 

"Chief? Chief, you in there, buddy? Come on, that's it...open those eyes." 

That sounds like ...but wait, it couldn't be...could it? Blinking his eyes, trying to get them to stay open he could hear Jim's voice, but for some reason, which he was unsure of, he thought that Jim shouldn't be there. He couldn't remember why. His eyelids felt so heavy, too heavy and it seemed to take all of his strength to keep them open. He attempted to glance around, get his bearings...but finally gave up, losing the battle and his eyelids closed. 

"That's okay Chief, you just rest awhile longer." He could hear the Jim voice again and it sounded so real. He wanted so badly to open his eyes, he wanted to see if there was a Jim to go along with the voice. But then he wondered if he was ready to face the possibility that Jim really wasn't there. Maybe it was only a dream. He was feeling confused, disoriented and he had this weird floating sensation, like he was not quite attached to his body. 

But, then he could feel warm lips pressing against his forehead, a hand on his cheek and those seemed real. He decided that just in case, he'd stay here awhile longer, in whatever reality -- or lack there of - that he was in at the moment. It was safe here. 

* * *

It was dark the next time he opened his eyes. There was a small fluorescent light over him...over the hospital bed...and it was casting a sort of surreal glow around the room. He couldn't help but notice the man, slumped over and snoring softly in the chair, next to his bed. He blinked hard and then rubbed his eyes and blinked again, for good measure. He was amazed...it was still Jim. 

Reaching over, he touched the sentinel's arm, just to be sure that he was solid, that he wasn't an illusion. Jim made a snuffling noise, shifted a little in the chair and then sat up straight. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Blair's . "Chief." 

Blair just stared; he had no words, because suddenly everything came rushing back to him, everything that had happened. Tears welled up in his eyes because at the forefront of those memories was the newspaper article he'd seen, the one saying that Detective James Ellison was... He remembered now. 

Jim almost looked as if he might lose it himself, but he managed to shake it off. "Jesus Blair. You scared the hell out of me." He pressed his forehead to Blair's. 

And Blair really wanted to close his eyes, to revel in the moment, maybe say a little prayer of thanks, but he was too afraid. He was afraid that if he closed them now, Jim might disappear, so he kept them open, kept looking up at his lover, his best friend, his sentinel. 

"How are you feeling?" Jim pulled back from him, studying him closely for a moment and then he smiled. "It's okay now. It's all over. Everything's going to be just fine...okay?" 

Blair nodded hesitantly, still unable to take his eyes off of Jim. There were about a million questions that he wanted to ask, but for some reason he couldn't get that part of his brain to engage his mouth. 

Finally after a mental shake, hoping that things were back in working order, he cleared his throat and managed a raspy, "Jim?" 

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, gently holding the beloved hand and tracing his fingertips along Blair's forearm, carefully avoiding the IV. Blair looked down and noted that his other arm had an IV sprouting from it as well. "Jim?" he repeated, because he wasn't a hundred percent certain that he'd said it the first time...things were still a little fuzzy. "...thought you...were..." Dare he say it? What if when he actually said the words, the spell would be broken and everything would vanish? 

Apparently, Jim was able to read something in Blair's expression and before Blair could say anything else, he began to speak. "Chief, I know. You thought I was dead." Taking a deep breath, he looked away and wiped his eyes. "We had to do that. We needed to keep her off balance. We couldn't let her know that we were on to her." He smiled a little sympathetically. "I don't know how much of this you all ready have knowledge of, so I'll just tell you the whole thing. Are you up to it?" 

At Blair's nod, he paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side. Taking inventory, Blair surmised affectionately. 

"First of all, Amy Stevens is gone Chief, you don't have to worry about her anymore." 

Blair lowered his eyes, with a troubled expression he stared at the floor. "I killed her." 

Jim reached out and gently tapped him under the chin. "Blair that wasn't your fault and you know it. Listen, I don't want you to even worry about that right now, got it? As for her being pregnant, well she wasn't. The medical examiner confirmed it. She was making it all up, so don't even start down that road." 

Blair relaxed slightly upon hearing that information. "The newspaper. I saw...." 

Jim held up a hand, to halt the inquiry. "That was all made up, Chief. It seems that Amy Stevens paid an acquaintance of hers, to...well, to take me out. She called the station on Thursday telling me that she had you and then she set up a time and place for us to meet. What she didn't know...is that this acquaintance of hers...had all ready come to us earlier that morning and let us in on the whole deal. He's a small time drug dealer. He's already on probation and was actually pretty shocked that she had even asked him to do this, but she also had threatened him, attempted to blackmail him with some type of information she supposedly had on him. Anyway, he pretended to go along with her little plan and then came to us afterwards. We played along with it, let it leak to the press that the hit had taken place. We knew you were around here somewhere, we just needed a little time to find you. We had to keep her thinking that things were going along as she planned." 

Blair nodded and then much to his dismay, let out a huge yawn at which Jim chuckled and leaned over, dropping a kiss on the younger man's forehead. 

"To be honest Chief, we didn't have a clue as to where she was holding you, not until we got that anonymous 911 call...the one that we now realize was you. Shit Blair, why didn't you just stay put?" 

With tears once again threatening his vision, he found that he had no answer to that question. How could he have told Jim that he simply hadn't cared...hadn't wanted to be found. He doubted that his explanation would have made any sense to Jim. It was really stupid -- he knew that -- now, but...he hadn't exactly been playing with a full deck at the time. 

"When we found you, you were hypothermic." Jim continued, now clenching his jaw. He let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe you walked all the way home. The doctor said you were also dehydrated...hypoglycemic. Let's just say that you weren't doin' too good, buddy. I don't know what was goin' through your mind." 

Blair's eyelids were getting heavy again, but he struggled to keep them open. He wasn't ready to close them -- not yet; he wanted to keep looking at Jim for awhile longer. With another yawn, he smiled sort of sleepily. Keep going, he thought, you're on a roll. Bawl me out all night long if you want...it's like music to my ears, man. 

"Next time you escape from a psycho, wait for someone to give you a lift home." 

This is said in a much gentler tone and followed by fingers tracing lightly over Blair's cheekbones, his eyebrows, his eyelashes... 

"love you Jim." 

* * *

Epilogue 

The cold drops of rain were beginning to transform in to large, fluffy, wet snowflakes. The contrast of the white flakes against the bleak sky made the sky seem ominously darker. A winter storm warning was in effect for the remainder of the day and into the next day, as well. Heavy snow and ice was being forecast, as two, separate storm systems were bearing down on the area. 

Jim Ellison turned the corner and maneuvered his pick up truck down the drive, coming to a stop in front of Hargrove Hall. He had called earlier, forewarning his partner that he was on his way and to be ready. He was hoping that Sandburg hadn't been sidetracked by some anthropological emergency, but would be waiting. He also hoped that Blair wasn't too tipsy from the end of semester/holiday party that Jim had caught him in the middle of when he'd called. There were a few things he needed to get done in case they did get socked in by the weather. 

Blair said good-bye to the young woman he had been speaking with. "Remember Sara, we still need to have these grades posted by Friday!" he called to her as she exited his office. He was only too happy to get away from the university today. He tucked a stack of papers into a folder and slid them into his book bag, grabbed his coat and dashed out the front doors. 

Friday was supposed to be the last day before the semester break, but now with this storm moving in no one was quite sure if there would even be classes on Friday. 

"Hey Jim," the younger man greeted, as he opened the passenger door and hurled his over stuffed book bag down, on to the floor of the truck. "Can you believe the size of these flakes man? Looks like the weatherman may have called this one right." 

Ellison smiled. "It's sure starting to look that way, Chief. You better get in, we have a few stops to make on the way home." 

Blair buckled himself in, smiling at the older man when he was ready. He snapped his fingers and waved. "On James." 

"Smart ass." 

Blair only laughed. 

"The university is closed tomorrow," Blair informed with a lascivious grin. 

"The whole town will probably be closed tomorrow, Darwin." 

"Yeah...we'll be snowed in, man. Stuck at home, just the two of us." Blair waggled his eyebrows when the detective glanced over at him. 

"Have I ever told you that you have a one track mind?" Jim asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

"Yeah...yeah, I believe you have mentioned that a time or two...now that I think about it." 

To Jim's dismay, the traffic was heavier than usual for this time of day and that, along with the freezing precipitation, was making travel difficult all ready. After a close call at an intersection, that nearly gave Blair a heart attack, Jim decided that he'd had enough. "We better stop at the grocery store and then just head for home; the other stuff can wait." 

As they entered the grocery store, Jim handed a slip of paper to Blair, casting a pointed glare upon the younger man. "Try to stick with the list this time, Chief." 

"Sure man," Blair answered absently, giving the list a quick once-over and stuffing it into his pocket. 

Twenty minutes later, Jim sighed in resignation as they stood at the check out counter with at least twice as many items as he'd had on the list. It wasn't like the kid had tried to sneak anything past him. Amazingly, he'd agreed to every damn extra thing in the cart -- even the octopus. He pondered for a moment while gazing at the large endcap of bathroom tissue, wondering at exactly what point it was that he had lost all control? After all, he was Jim Ellison. He was a former army officer, trained in Special Forces for Christ's sake. You'd think he'd be able to handle one longhaired grad student. 

"Jim man, are you okay?" 

"We are not having that octopus stuff for dinner, Sandburg," he growled authoritatively. 

"Calamari Jim," Blair smirked, "and it's squid, not octopus." 

"Whatever. I am not having it for dinner." 

"Okay, if you say so, but it's your loss man." 

Jim nodded smugly, while inwardly he was unable to suppress the feeling that somehow he'd know what octopus tasted like by morning...or squid...whatever. 

The drive home took twice as long as usual. The temperature had dropped and the sun was going down, making the roads a dangerous sheet of ice. After averting disaster once again, on the slippery sidewalk leading in to the building, they finally had made it safely to their apartment. 

Blair had put the remaining groceries away while Jim busied himself making a fire in the wood burning stove. 

"You know Jim, calamari is considered a delicacy," Blair informed as he knelt, perusing the shelf of recipe books in search for a specific one. "I think you'd like it if you gave it a try." 

"No thank you, Chief." 

"Well, you'll just be missing out, man." He picked out a rather thick book, placed it on the counter and began skimming the pages, finally planting a finger on a page. "Aha! Here it is!" 

"Sandburg, you'd better be making more than just that stuff," he warned. 

"Yeah, yeah. Gee Jim, what will it be tonight? Macaroni and cheese? Soup? Maybe a nice bowl of corn flakes?" 

"Soup is good food, Chief." Jim informed, pointedly. 

"Oh man," Blair rolled his eyes, "we have definitely got to work on expanding your horizons!" 

Jim stood back to admire the warmth and coziness that the now blazing fire added to their home. "My horizons are fine Sandburg, just the way I like 'em." 

Blair made his way over to stand next to Jim in front of the fire. "You know, I was thinking," he said quietly. "We didn't get to spend Thanksgiving together." 

Jim nodded, slipping an arm around the smaller man and pulling him close. "Yeah...I know." 

Blair wrapped both arms around Jim, resting his head against the detective's chest...comforted by the steady heartbeat. "You know Jim, in some eastern island cultures, they celebrate a day that's almost exactly like our Thanksgiving. They give thanks to the gods for new life, for health and happiness, their possessions, crops and plentiful fishing of the previous year and pray for the same blessings in the year ahead." 

"Is that right?" 

"Uh-huh." Blair continued, running his hands up and down the length of Jim's back. "They celebrate their Thanksgiving in December...you know the seasons are a little different than here." 

"I see." 

"So maybe we could still celebrate Thanksgiving after all?" Blair looked hopefully up at the taller man, his eyes wide and full of adoration. 

"Sure, Chief," Jim agreed quietly. He planted a kiss on his lover's full mouth and then gazed lovingly into the blue eyes, "but I'm still not eating that octopus stuff." 

Blair let out an indignant yelp. "You are such a dick, man!" 

"And you are so predictable, not to mention - full of shit. I am on to you, Sandburg." 

"Yeah, right," Blair said with a roll of his eyes, pushing his lover away. "Chicken noodle or tomato?" 

"I think I'd like to go with something different tonight. How about...potato?" 

"Different?" Blair snorted. "It's still soup, man." 

"Yeah, potato sounds good," Jim concluded thoughtfully, ignoring his partner's comment. 

"Potato...that's just great. He wants potato, he can have potato," Blair grumbled to himself as he stalked back to the kitchen. "Okay, big guy. Potato soup it is. Wouldn't want those horizons expanding too much the first day, right?" 

Jim smiled contentedly, as he poked at the logs and then stood back to watch the crackling flames in the wood burning stove. "Riiiight." 

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End

End note: Thanks to Gayle and Keri who continually gross me out with their calamari tales. Bleh! 


End file.
